The Repentant Rake

    'They could be here as early as tomorrow,' he opined.

    'They?'

    'Well, I have every hope that Sir Julius will bring your sister with him. Susan is a godsend on such occasions. She knows how to cope with your father.'

    'Nobody copes with him better than I do, Lancelot,' said his wife peevishly 'Susan is too inclined to let him have his own way I challenge him at every turn.'

    'I know, but it does make for a lot of discord, my dear.'

    She rounded on him. 'Are you censuring me?'

    'Heaven forbid!'

    'Father only respects those who argue with him.'

    Serle gave a sigh. 'Whenever I try to argue, he beats me down.'

    'Offer your opinions with more force, Lancelot.'

    'I prefer a quiet life.'

    She gave a snort of disgust and resumed her snipping. They were in the formal garden at the rear of their house in Richmond. It was Brilliana's domain. Watched over by their mistress, a large team of gardeners kept the grass cut, the flowerbeds free of weeds, the topiary trimmed to perfection, the paths clear and the ponds uncluttered with extraneous matter. Trees and bushes had been artfully used to create avenues, glades and endless secret places. Statuary was placed to best effect. Running to well over two acres, the garden was a special feature of the fortified manor house that had been in Serle's family for almost two centuries. Brilliana Cheever had coveted it enough to accept its owner's tentative proposal of marriage. Experience had taught her that she had been too headstrong. Instead of being her pride and joy, the garden at Serle Court was now her only consolation.

    'What shall we do with him, Brilliana?' wondered Serle.

    'Keep him firmly in his place.'

    'Sir Julius will be our guest. How will we entertain him?'

    'Father is not coming here to be entertained, Lancelot,' she said, cutting the stem of a white rose. 'He is only tolerating our company so that he can venture into London to discuss this new house of his with an architect.'

    'When that is built, he will be our neighbour.'

    'Hardly.'

    'The city is not far away, Brilliana. We shall see much more of him.'

    'On the contrary,' she retorted, 'we shall see much less. Why have a house built at all when he could easily stay here while Parliament is sitting? Father likes to order everyone around and he can never do that to me.'

    'I sometimes think you are too harsh on him.'

    'Would you rather I just grinned obsequiously at him - as you do?'

    Serle was hurt. 'I like to be on good terms with my father-in- law.'

    'A wife should surely take precedence.'

    'Of course, Brilliana.'

    'Then stop letting me down when he is here,' she snapped. 'Behave more like the master of Serle Court and less like one of its servants.'

    'What an unkind remark!' he protested.

    'Unkind but not inaccurate,' she said, facing him again. 'Your ancestors fought hard to build up this estate, Lancelot. Prove that you are a worthy successor. When Father comes, do not accede to his every request. Be your own man.'

    'That is what I am.'

    'Only to a degree.'

    Her basket full, she headed back towards the house. Serle fell in beside her. He ducked under some fronds of willow that overhung the path and raised a new topic.

    'What is the likelihood of your sister's coming?' he asked.

    'Why?'

    'We must take care not to neglect Susan.'

    'You can leave my sister to me, Lancelot. We will take the coach into the city and visit the shops. Susan will like that,' she said with a patronising smile. 'She is a country mouse, remember. London is a source of continual wonder to her.'

    'Susan must envy you so much, Brilliana.' He did not see the sneer that rose to her lips. 'Indeed, it is with that in mind that I have a suggestion to put. For reasons that I fail to understand, my beautiful sister-in-law is neither married nor even betrothed. I know that she has rejected the cream of Northamptonshire's bachelors and wondered if we might not find one more acceptable to her.'

    'We?'

    'There are plenty of eligible young men we could invite to the house.'

    'Why?' she said with contempt. 'So that she may run her eye over them like a farmer at a cattle market? It is not our task to find her a husband.'

    'A helping hand is all that I am advocating.'

    'Offer that and you'll get little thanks from Susan.'

    'Why?'

    'My sister has true Cheever spirit. She insists on making her own decisions.'

    'Your brother made his own decisions,' he said ruefully, 'and look what happened to him.'

    'Lancelot!' she exclaimed.

    'Gabriel had rather too much of the Cheever spirit.'

    'That's a dreadful thing to say.'

    'Yet it contains a measure of truth.'

    Brilliana was quivering with anger. 'Gabriel chose his path in life and he must suffer the consequences. We no longer accept him as a member of the family, as you know only too well. Why do you vex me by mentioning his foul name?'

    'He is your brother, my dear,' he said weakly.

    'He was, Lancelot, but I refuse to acknowledge him now. So does Father.'

    'I learned that to my cost.'

    'Then why touch on a subject you know will offend me?'

    'No offence was intended.'

    'As far as I am concerned' she emphasised, 'Gabriel does not even exist any more. My brother might just as well be dead.'

    Instead of returning to Fetter Lane to collect his horse, Christopher decided to make the journey on foot. The long walk to Addle Hill gave him time to reflect. He was puzzled by the second letter sent to his brother, reasoning that it had to come from someone who was party to Gabriel Cheever's murder because nobody else knew about it. Henry had flown into a panic but the death threat did not entirely convince Christopher. A man who was trying to squeeze money from a victim by means of blackmail would not toss away all hope of profit by killing that victim. Yet that was what was implied by the mention of Gabriel Cheever. Had he foolishly resisted blackmail demands? According to Henry, Cheever had been a single-minded young man with a forceful character. He had clearly inherited some of his father's traits. Unlike Henry Redmayne, he did not sound like a natural target for blackmail. Why choose someone who would surely never cave in to demands for money? And how could anyone blackmail a man who, it transpired, was so careless of his reputation that he gloried in his debauchery? The rakehell described by Henry would have no qualms whatsoever if his amours became public knowledge. He was impervious to extortion.

    Something else worried Christopher about the second letter. It was not written by the same person as the first one. Accomplices were at work. One of them had the most graceful handwriting. Jonathan Bale had explained that Gabriel Cheever's assassin must have been a powerful man. Was a vicious killer capable of such stylish calligraphy? The more Christopher thought about it, the more persuaded he became that the blackmail emanated from someone within Henry's circle. The problem was that the circle was rather large. His brother had now provided him with a list of over thirty close friends. A supplementary list of acquaintances included the name of Gabriel Cheever. To pick a way through the complex private life of Henry Redmayne was a formidable task.

    As Christopher entered the city through Ludgate, his thoughts turned to Susan Cheever. The death of her brother would be a bitter blow to her and she would be agonised when she learned the nature of that death. How her father and her sister would react, Christopher did not know. His only concern was for the young woman who had made such a deep impression on him during his visit to Northamptonshire. It grieved him that they had parted on such an awkward note. He did not relish passing on the grim tidings. A mere question about her brother had been enough to upset her. News of his murder might destroy her completely Christopher resolved to choose his words with utmost care. Eager to see Susan Cheever again, he wished that he could meet her in any circumstances but the present ones.